


The First Day of the Rest of Our Lives

by debirlfan



Category: Boston Legal
Genre: M/M, Post-Series, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 10:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2809694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debirlfan/pseuds/debirlfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wedding night on the balcony.  Where else would they be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Day of the Rest of Our Lives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_of_the_Refrigerator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_the_Refrigerator/gifts).



Alone in the chill darkness, as late night passed into early morning, they had danced until they'd tired of it. Retaking their seats, they had talked of adventures and accomplishments. Farm raised salmon and the unspoiled Canadian wilderness, cases won and defendants defended. Eventually they had fallen into a comfortable silence. Below them, the city glistened. Headlights and taillights merged with holiday decorations, reflections bouncing off of a million windows. Glass in hand, Alan rose and walked to the railing of the balcony, surveying the tableau arrayed before him. He savored the moment, committing it to memory.

“Alan?”

He turned toward where Denny was still settled in one of the over-sized chairs behind him. “Yes, Denny?”

“You're awfully quiet.” Denny punctuated the comment with a wave of his cigar and a puff of smoke.

Alan sipped his drink. “Just enjoying the view.” It was true, as far as it went. What he didn't say and what he'd been avoiding saying all evening was that he doubted if there would be many more nights spent overlooking the city. The new Chinese owners had already removed Denny's name from the door, and were undoubtedly busy drafting the paperwork to rid themselves of him completely. Shirley hadn't told Denny about that, though, and Alan didn't intend to tell him on their wedding night. That bit of information could wait. It would wait at least until morning, and preferably until they learned whether the new drugs would help Denny's memory.

Denny rose from his chair and moved to join Alan. He flicked cigar ash over the edge of the railing, the sparking embers drifting downwards in the chill air until they'd burned themselves out. “Love Boston, hate the weather,” Denny announced, as if his displeasure in and of itself was enough to raise the temperature. “The new place is going to have an enclosed balcony. Glass doors we can close in the winter. Either that, or we set up shop in Hawaii.”

“The new place?”

“Our new firm. Crane and Shore. Hopefully Crane, Shore and Schmidt, once we sue those commie bastards into releasing her name.”

“But...”

“It's over, Alan. You know it as well as I do. The gig is up. We've been canceled.”

Alan paused before replying, taking the time to gauge Denny's mood. He didn't seem upset. “Who told you?”

Denny snorted. “Didn't have to tell me. I shot half a dozen of them. I'm sure they haven't forgotten. There's no way they're going to let me stay. Not that I'd want to work for them, anyhow.” He took a sip from his drink. “You could, though. At least for a time. After that speech you gave. It was brilliant.”

“Where you go, I go.” Alan set his glass down on the railing and eyed the man who had long been his best friend and was now, unexpectedly, his husband. Denny's proposal and his own acceptance had come so quickly – and with the firm's buyout, amid such a tumultuous backdrop – that he'd never actually considered the ramifications. Beyond the ability to easily transfer wealth while avoiding taxes and Denny's insistence on being shot if the “Mad Cow” worsened, they'd never discussed what marriage meant. Things had simply happened too quickly. Perhaps it was time that they had that talk. “Where do we go from here, Denny?”

Denny jerked his head around to look at him, undoubtedly picking up on the change of tone in his voice. He cocked an eyebrow. “I take it you're not talking about Hawaii?”

“We're married.” To his ears, those words sounded both surreal and yet somehow, amazingly right. “After my wife died, I never really expected to remarry.” Even now, her death still haunted him. They had had their problems, but ultimately he'd loved her with all his heart, and he never thought he'd feel that way about anyone ever again. Now, he found that he did. It was a different kind of love, but every bit as deep.

In response, Denny picked up the empty glass Alan had left on the railing. He took it back to their table and filled it from the open bottle of scotch before returning it to Alan. “Do you think she'd approve?”

Alan considered that. She had told him once early in their relationship that if anything should ever happen to her, she didn't want him to be alone. He spent a moment remembering her, her hair, her lips, the sparkle in her eyes. “She would be amused, and for once I might actually have managed to surprise her. But I think she would have liked you. And, yes, I do believe she would approve.”

“Good to hear.”

“So where _do_ we go from here?” Alan repeated. “What does marriage to the great Denny Crane entail?”

Denny puffed at his cigar before he answered. “Pretty much the same things as friendship with him.” He lifted his glass. “Good scotch. Cigars. The Supreme Court. Winning cases.” Another puff. “Fishing trips. And we really need to get you comfortable on a horse. Perhaps we can share a matched pair of hookers on special occasions.” Denny paused again, unusually serious. “One change. No more sleepovers.”

That surprised Alan. He wondered if that might be Denny's way of countering the stares and whispers that were bound to come with their new relationship. He found that he was oddly disappointed. “Whatever will I do without you to read me a bedtime story?”

“That's not what I meant. I'm saying no more sleepovers because you'll be moving into the house. No husband of mine lives in a hotel.” Denny's grin was back. “It's time you settled down, Alan.”

That was, perhaps, even more of a surprise. He couldn't resist a bit of teasing. “Already telling me what to do. No wonder none of your marriages have lasted.”

“This one will. You can be sure of that.” Denny turned flippant. “Has to. You're too good of a lawyer. You'd clean me out with the divorce settlement.”

Alan laughed. It would all work out. He should have known that. It was him and Denny, after all.

“I never did kiss you.”

“Excuse me?”

“When Scalia said to kiss the bride, I kissed Shirley.”

“As did we all.” Alan had already committed that kiss to memory.

“You never got your kiss.” Denny grinned. “For that matter, I never got mine.” He set his drink down and closed the distance between them. “Pucker up, Alan.” Denny leaned forward, and with the hand not holding his cigar, pulled Alan toward him until their lips met.

It was different, kissing Denny. He'd expected either aggression or a quick peck to satisfy a formality. It was neither. It was soft and gentle, and Denny's lips lingered on his. When he pulled away, Denny's eyes were bright with love and humor and the promise of things to come. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Denny.”

Alan had the feeling it was going to be an interesting new year.

\--THE END--


End file.
